


The Unsung

by foxjar



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Childbirth, M/M, Mpreg, Other, Pregnancy, Tentacles, Worship, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: Calrin adores his god like no other, and in return, he is given the ultimate gift.





	The Unsung

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormyDaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/gifts).



Calrin was born on a difficult year for his village. Living alongside the ocean, they had relied on the benevolence of the sea to sustain them — mackerel, golden cod, lobsters, and all sorts of other creatures. It was the year the townspeople stopped praying as much; stopped revering their merciful god, who lives beneath the waves in the briny deep.

"The Unsung," they call it. Named after that fateful year almost twenty-five years past, when the town had suffered so much due to their negligence.

The stories his parents told him over the years bestowed a sense of wonder in Calrin. He has always dedicated his life to serving his god, knees scratched by the sand as he kneels before the water, praying for hours at a time.

Soon, a lucky chosen worshipper will be given the ultimate gift. The townsfolk clamor over the event, tripping over themselves and each other in an attempt to placate their god. They want to be chosen for the gift.

No one's prayers are quite as passionate as Calrin's; none quite as ardent. It's his unadulterated love that sparks interest, and thus it is him who is chosen.

His eyelids flutter as thick, slimy tentacles enter him. They explore his body, caressing his stomach protectively before creeping along his chest. He has never felt more loved than he does right now; more dear and revered.

It doesn't take long for his belly to swell, and with it comes the aches and pains of pregnancy. He cherishes each day; every agony. When he struts around the village with his huge belly on display, he feels a sense of pride, as the townspeople eye him with envy.

He prepares for the coming baby in every way he can think of. In the afternoon, he sews clothes for the abnormal offspring, knowing no store contain the sorts of attire he needs. When the baby kicks, he can feel its strength as it pushes at his skin. He tries to guess how many tentacles the baby might have, but knowing its sire, it might possess what seems to be an infinite mass of crawling chaos.

Calrin, despite his dedication, cannot accommodate quite that many tentacles in his preparatory clothing. But one day, when he wakes up, his eyes are bright as he smiles.

Six, he decides. Six will be perfect.

No one knows The Unsung's true name, as no one has ever been deemed worthy enough to learn. But Calrin is different; special, even. On the night of the birth, as the baby pushes and thrashes around inside of him, he hears a sound in his mind as it attempts to soothe him. It doesn't speak words — doesn't utter any speech he has ever heard — but he feels the enormity of it.

The Unsung is named Mhathl'lo. As Calrin cradles his writhing baby in his arms, he smiles.

Mhathl'lo was right. The baby does have six tentacles, pallid and squirming against his chest.

Calrin has never been happier.


End file.
